


When you Wake a Sleepy Morty

by Ostler



Series: Tyrannosaurus Rick [1]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Caffeine Dependency, Gen, mentioned drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 04:56:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12005487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ostler/pseuds/Ostler
Summary: One of the few times Morty tells Rick no. Too bad Morty is too tired and Rick is too wired to actually get what each other are saying.





	When you Wake a Sleepy Morty

**Author's Note:**

> I got inspired by this piece.  
> https://humblemarty.deviantart.com/art/Rick-and-Morty-702367642  
> I'm also trying to get some characterization practice in. Anything that looks weird, point it out to me. It'd help me improve.

In a distant universe about a portal away and a little to the right of the universe we know an explosion had rocked the small one car garage in the middle of suburbia and a bus ride away from the high school. The second explosion caused Morty Smith’s bedroom to hiccup. Space models rocked silently on the ceiling. His bed shook beneath his bikini babe poster. The brunette groaned into his pillow. The digital dial on his alarm clock kept beeping midnight. School, hopefully was a few hours away. Morty buried his head under his pillow and burrowed around the covers until his feet poked out where his head should be and vice versa. One more explosion rocked the house into a standstill. 

Morty let out a small sigh of relief that his Grandpa Rick had finally decided to go to bed it seemed. Morty’s eyes slowly drifted closed. His breathing evened out. Maybe it was the body pillow he was hugging to his face or the scent of cotton cloying his nostrils. He just got back to where he left off in that sexy dream full of bodacious redheads.

The door slammed wide. A gaunt figure tripped over his own loafers on the way to the floor. Glass tinked together. Morty’s toes curled in annoyance.

“Morty,” the voice gruffly barked, “Morty get up.”

Rick’s oval visage seemed to sprout wild spines of graying blue hair like petals surrounding the itty-bitty baldspot slowly rotating out from the center. In front his pale skin ashened to the complexion of crepe paper. His lanky build sprung around the bed with all the wonders a good healthcare plan could afford if Rick trusted his safety with anyone else.

“Nmmmn-nooo,” Morty muffled into his pillow. Sleep was a luxury one lost when adventuring with Rick. 

Rick’s sleep schedule fit no one. The mad scientist prodded and paced around the bed trying to find his grandson’s face. Shaking him awake proved fruitless. He was a busy man. Maybe yanking a toe would work instead.

“F*ck!” Morty cussed.

Out yanked one foot, up sprung the lump holding Morty’s head. Objective achieved. Rick grabbed the mass and proceeded to drag off near-comatose Morty.

“Come on Morty! What time is it?” Rick blurted out.

“Alright, alright already, it’s eleven past midnight geez,” Morty yawned. He stumbled to his feet. Ragamuffin flyaways framed a face that wasn’t quite a child anymore but had yet to mature into a teenage face. “Don’t y-y-yi-you even sleep?”

Rick bounced on the balls of his feet. He slurped up a sticky substance currently sliding down his chin.

“Nope,” Rick bragged, his brow furrowed, “D-D-Don’t judge me!”

“M-not judging,” Morty mumbled, he scrubbed his bleary eye with one fist, the other squeezing his body pillow around the beach babe’s waist. “It’s too early.”

Morty padded after his grandpa despite his complaints. His sister Summer sat texting in the office chair. Rick piddled around the garage turned lab with all the energy of a possessed mad man. Beer cans and rolled joints flooded the ash tray and table showing how long Rick had been working sans sleep. Candy colored equines sang on an ancient TV. Rick smashed it, the screen went to static before blipping up a little map marked Don Bluth Middle School.

“When dah you,” Morty mumbled, he slapped himself, “Ow! R-Rick why are we in your lab and what has so you so en-en-ener . . . buzzed.”

“I ran out of beer I won’t go . . . go into details,” Rick sucked in a breath and continued anyway, “During my adventures throughout the multi-verse. My many e-escapades have left me in need of drink and amply emptying my special supply of. . . Morty!”

Morty, sagged his knees a little. Head lolled back in a snore. Rick snapped his fingers. His grandson inhaled a wheeze, wobbling himself awake.

“W-wha-what wah.” Morty mumbled.

“Beer run. We’re going on a beer run Morty, the universe depends on it.” Rick stuttered through shaking his grandson violently enough his shoulders did the shimmy and shake.

Morty glared through half-lidded eyes. He could barely stand up as it is. His sagging knees buckled into each other for support. He checked between the dented silver clock on the wall. His sister obliviously texted something funny on her phone. Her bit lip sucked into a nervous grin. Morty’s somber expression could drywall stone.

‘That’s it,’ Morty thought to himself, ‘I’m too tired for this garbage. I want my bed.’

“Rick,” Morty bit out, his voice cracked every third syllable, “I’m freaking tired. Y-y-you’re just going to go and get Sh*t-faced the minute we get to a bar and who’s going to be the one to drive your sorry butt? I-I-It’s not going to be the s-s-sandman if that’s what y. . .y. . .y-y-you’re thinking.”

“Morty,” Rick near-growled.

“Don’t Morty me,” Morty harrumphed, “The sandman’s late for my a-a-appointment a-a-and it involves redheads, lots of redheads. O-or we could end up in the hospital because you kept me up Rick. Get y-your.”

Morty proceeded to lecture his grandpa for several more minutes but seeing how exhausted he was the lecture went nowhere. Rick rolled his eyes. Point one for Morty, he smacked his head on the door jam. Poor guy was too sleep deprived to judge the distance between him and the door. Rick grabbed ahold of Morty’s shoulders and proceeded to drive his grandson back to his bedroom. Now that the caffeine high was wearing off, His knuckles shook.

Rick popped in to find Summer heading down the hall.

He requested, “Got any more of that Red Bull?”

Summer shrugged, scoffing, “Beats me Grandpa.”

Still, his granddaughter raided the fridge and slid him the whole six pack. The squealiest grin covering Rick’s features stretched the laugh lines at his cheeks. Happily the scientist chugged a can just to keep the shakes at bay. 

“Don’t stay up too late,” warned Summer, a peck on his cheek.

Rick was wired exclaiming “No promises!”

The caffeine crash hit him hard the next morning after that morning. Rick passed out in Morty’s room on the way to drag him off to who knows where. Morty cringed after stepping on you know what. Rick fell asleep where he passed out slumped over empty energy drinks. Drool dribbled from his lips to the growing puddle on the carpet. Morty sighed.

As much as Rick got on his nerves at least one sixty-fourth of him cared deep down maybe. The feeling was mutual. Morty pulled the comforter over Rick’s shoulders. Maybe asking his mom to stock the fridge with some beers might be safer Morty guessed. Then again, Morty’s grandpa would find other ways to get high besides on alcohol. Maybe a beer run was the safer bet then losing his family member to klaxemite crystals or something harder than a beer. 


End file.
